


The Case of the Cornish Handshake

by Calliope_Soars



Category: Elementary (TV), The Mindy Project
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Prompt Fill, tmpfanficprompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1767049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliope_Soars/pseuds/Calliope_Soars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://tmpfanficprompts.tumblr.com/post/85320683291/a-crossover-with-elementary-in-which-jeremy-is-the">this prompt</a>.</p><p>A crossover with Elementary in which Jeremy is the third, most disappointing Holmes brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Cornish Handshake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicasio_silang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicasio_silang/gifts), [alittlenutjob](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlenutjob/gifts).



> **Music** : _Brother_ \- Matt Corby
> 
>  
> 
> This prompt was actually very challenging. I found out via twitter that it was **gabby_silang** who asked for this prompt. So if it sucks, blame her :P
> 
> Also whoot, first time doing a crossover!  
> I've never written for Elementary, although I absolutely adore the show.
> 
> Thanks to my fab beta's: you're wonderful, super special and I'd be lost without your encouragement and help.
> 
> Let me know what you think...

Perhaps he should be miffed; any normal person would be, but Jeremy Reed had long since stopped caring about these silly little trifles. So no one had thought to inform him that his two brothers had moved to the US – let alone how they had both moved to his new home of New York City. To be quite honest, this wasn’t the most astonishing family occurrence and frankly he’d stopped caring somewhere around the age of 12. After years of getting locked in cupboards and being the reluctant test subject for countless experiments, young Jeremy had at some point learned to grit his teeth and bear it. He had simply chosen to resign himself to the role that he played in the farce that he called his family.

  
Mummy had always been the only one who cared enough to acknowledge his existence, but since his father’s last affair had come to light (and quite publicly so) his darling mother was in a state of perpetual self-medication in order to cope with the scandal. Her precious house of cards had tumbled down on top of her and Cecilia Reed’s upbringing had not taught her how to cope with the entirely foreign concept of disappointment. With her public image as blissful matriarch utterly shattered, she’d found her solace in handfuls of sedatives and copious amounts of Bombay Sapphire. Apparently the rubbish man had not been Father’s first foray in that particular sphere of infidelity, causing poor Mummy to have to find herself a new gardener as well as discreetly consult with a competent solicitor.

  
Discretion was everything in the Holmes household and appearances mattered above all else. Although his parents flirted with the idea of divorce, it never went beyond those heated phone calls to their respective solicitors since social standing always outweighed any desire for personal happiness. At a very young age, Jeremy had realised and subsequently come to accept that he had not been born into a _normal_ family. In fact, _normal_ was practically a profanity in his household. With exceptionally intelligent older brothers, poor old Jeremy soon found that this curse word really only applied to him. The Holmes name carried certain abnormally high and very inescapable expectations with it, one that affected every single member of his family. Unfortunately Jeremy stood out for his mediocrity and his utter inability to rise above it. Mummy had always been kind to him, but his father’s disdain for Jeremy’s obvious inadequacies – especially in light of his brothers’ ever blossoming genius – had left a more than permanent mark in his memory. He was soon excluded from any and all participation, as if the word _thick_ had been branded onto his forehead and had rendered him completely invisible.

  
It really was no wonder that as an adult he had become addicted to attention, seeing as how during his formative years he had never had any sort of positive feedback from the male examples in his life. There had always been a serious rivalry between Sherlock and Mycroft, one that could get quite vicious at times yet made him feel jealous nonetheless. It meant they had a connection, a bond that did not extend to include him. Daft little Jeremy, who wouldn’t ever understand so why even bother explaining. It was never spoken aloud, yet the mere fact that they preferred to antagonise one another rather than pay him any heed spoke volumes. Underneath all the animosity, there had always been a steady undercurrent of respect between his older siblings and Jeremy had never coveted anything more.

  
Mummy had tried to dote on him and give him the confidence he was so obviously lacking, except she wasn’t quite certain how to go about it. A lady of her standing had never really been meant for motherhood, but somehow her youngest son’s pitiable position in the family brought out what small modicum of maternal instinct was hidden inside of her. Jeremy wasn’t clever – not by Holmes’ standards – so she went on to emphasise his good looks. Her beautiful baby boy. Her handsome little Jeremy, who’d undoubtedly steal the heart of any girl he glanced at.

  
It was by all accounts a consolation prize at best, one primarily based on fiction until he managed to lose what Mummy called “his delicious plumpness” halfway through secondary school. However it was a prize that he clung to as he watched the Holmes men bond in ways that he could not begin to fathom. It wasn’t that he wasn’t bright, as he had done brilliantly in his A-levels, but it was simply that his brothers were functioning on an entirely different playing field.  
  


A soft rap on his door finally shook him out of his reverie. “Doctor Reed, your next patient just called to say she’s a bit delayed. I was wondering if you wanted a piece of coffee cake while you waited.” Betsy’s sentence ended in a bashful whisper, as she focused on gripping the door handle instead of meeting his gaze.

  
Everything in Jeremy wanted to drown his frustrations in food, but he refused to give any of his family members the satisfaction of letting them affect him so. “Thank you, that’s very kind of you. I’ve had a late lunch so I couldn’t possibly eat anything at the moment.” Betsy’s big doe eyes showed her disappointment clearly, so he added a charming smile. “I am sure it’s delicious, Betsy. Next time I’ll have two pieces.” This seemed to appease the young receptionist, and she primly exited his office with a light blush colouring her cheeks.

  
He turned his gaze back to the email his old nanny Maeve had sent him, the one person who had consistently treated Jeremy as something more than just the black sheep of the Holmes clan. His mum had meant well, but all her actions were laced with such intense pity it made him uncomfortable to be around her for too long.

  
It wasn’t like that with lovely May though, as he had always called her since he couldn’t quite pronounce her Irish name. Nanny Maeve snuck him sweets, read him bedtime stories and generally showed him more affection than he had ever known. She was his playmate when his family avoided him like he was infectious, like his normalcy could affect their own excellence. Maeve noticed him, really saw him, when he had become the forgotten Holmes son.

  
Once Mummy began starting her breakfast with gin rather than toast, little Jeremy had known that he was soon to follow his older siblings and be carted off to boarding school like countless generations of Holmes men had done before him. He tried to savour the moments with darling nanny Maeve because he knew life would be even harsher than ever. There would be no one to console him or tell him it was perfectly fine to have a little cry from time to time. After all, it had been Nanny’s own mummy who’d said it wasn’t healthy to keep tears inside.  Since his beloved May would never lie to him, young Jeremy let himself openly weep while she soothed him by gently stroking his hair. He managed to keep from crying though as he watched Maeve pack his life away into monogramed suitcases. Instead little Jeremy bit his lip and hugged his nanny tighter than he’d ever hugged anyone.

  
It was no wonder he began to eat his feelings once he arrived at boarding school, a hellish place filled with boys who were even crueler to him (if that were even possible) than his own brothers had been. The only way to fit in was to match his personality to the most popular boys and mimic behaviour so far removed from him, his sweet nanny would hardly recognise him. Jeremy grew taller, more accustomed to his role of charming lad who swept girls off their feet with a simple wink. His mother’s prediction had come true. He would never be as clever as his brothers, but at least he could outshine them in other ways.  
  


* * *

 

  
Startled by the taste of blood in his mouth, Jeremy realised he had been biting his lip again. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, soothed the wound with his tongue and felt his stomach churn with an indiscernible emotion.

  
Jeremy wasn’t sure how he’d manage to get through his work day, let alone how he had kept himself from polishing off half of Betsy’s coffee cake in the men’s restroom. All his patients of the day had blurred into one, and it was as if all his medical training had flown out of the window the second he had read Maeve’s email.

  
At one point he had actually handed a pamphlet about menopause to a teenage girl. Her mother had been quite horrified, as he continued to prattle on about the option of hormone therapy to combat the hot flashes and other symptoms. Suffice to say, he lost that particular patient – although he did hear Peter coaxing them into his office not too long after mother and daughter had stormed out on Jeremy.

  
After that incident, he’d decided to call it a day and walked a few blocks to let the crisp evening air clear his head. He wasn’t ready to go home just yet, so Jeremy found himself walking into a low-key café. He situated himself at the bar and ordered a cup of tea. Jeremy ignored the bartender’s scoff at his order, and stiffly added that he’d like some milk to go with that as well.

  
Any self respecting Englishman knew that a nice hot brew could fix just about anything, and Jeremy was in dire need of some warm comforts from home. He couldn’t help but lose himself in the swirls of tea darkening the hot water and inhaled the lovely smell it created. Once he was satisfied with the colouring, he poured a little milk in until his tea was the exact right shade. With another deep breath, he closed his eyes as he took his first careful sip.

  
“That must’ve been one hell of a day.”

  
Jeremy turned towards the voice and was met with a compassionate smile that made his own lips tick up in response. “That it was,” he answered, intent on keeping his tone light.

  
The beautiful woman raised her own cup in salute and it wasn’t until then that he noticed she was also nursing a cup of tea. “Well, my mother always says a good cup of tea can fix you right up,” she took a slow sip of her own – closing her eyes for a moment before meeting his gaze and giving him that kind smile again. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to disturb you.” She looked genuinely contrite, angling her body away from his so as not to offend or further impose.

  
“Jeremy Reed, pleasure.” He held out a hand, smoothly flicking on his Lothario persona. After all, a beautiful woman would always trump tea when it came to cheering him up. A smirk wanted to escape, but he tamped it down before it could be seen.

  
She took his hand firmly, “Joan Watson, nice to meet you.”

  
“So is your tea helping to fix what ails you?” Jeremy took another sip of his, adding a smooth nonchalance to his tone.

  
“Just work things,” Joan waved her hand, as if to swat away the topic and went back to idly tracing the rim of her teacup. “My partner…co-worker, yeah he’s not the easiest person. Especially when things don’t go according to his plan.” She gave an apologetic smile, one that crinkled her nose a little and made the stunning constellation of freckles stand out even more.

  
“Mhm, I see,” Jeremy contemplated for a moment, before turning to meet Joan’s gaze. “I really don’t think tea will be able to fix that.” He gave her a solemn look, then a half smile that his old boarding school mates had dubbed _The Clay Pigeon_ ‘as all the birds fell to pieces over it’.

  
“Joan,” he took her hand in both of his, his signature roguish smile beaming at full force, “I think this might just be serendipity.” Jeremy stroked a thumb along the pulse point at her wrist, “us meeting like this today.”

  
Joan arched an eyebrow at him, but he was undeterred and his tea completely forgotten at this point. “I am confident that _together_ we should be able to suss out a more satisfying way to salvage this day.”

  
Joan extracted her hand from his, using it to tuck her hair back behind her ear.  
“Wow.” She went from grinning to actually shaking with laughter. “Why did you have to go and ruin it?” Joan shook her head. “This was lovely, and then…”

  
She sighed, a hint of disappointment making her purse her lips slightly. Jeremy couldn’t help a blush from heating up his face, as this really wasn’t his day. Joan stood up, put some bills on the bar and started to put on her coat.

  
“Look, Miss Watson wait…please join me for another drink. I promise I’ll keep my inner cad from making another appearance.” His smile was genuine this time, one he only reserved for a select few in his life.

  
He couldn’t help but think of nanny Maeve and how disappointed she’d be in him. Jeremy had kept this Lothario act going for so long, he started to actually believe that this was who he was. To be honest, it was easier this way. If his own family wouldn’t acknowledge his previous incarnation, then who said total strangers would find it any more engaging. So he hid behind this façade of phony charm, easy smiles and shallow relations. It was easier to maintain this role of narcissistic scoundrel than risk becoming that invisible Holmes boy all over again.

  
“I’ve just…I’ve honestly had a dreadful day and it appears to have brought out my worst habits. I truly do apologise!”

  
She met his eyes, clearly assessing whether or not he was worth her time. She hadn’t moved to remove her coat yet, when a distinctly familiar voice bellowed “Watson!” and caused her to let out a small huff of annoyance. Jeremy watched her clench her teeth before steeling herself, her hands folding into each other as if to ground her. He couldn’t help but be curious to see who could elicit such a response and turned to follow her gaze.

  
“There you are. I have repeatedly asked you to respond to my texts. We are, after all, on a case Watson. I shouldn’t have to remind you that time is of the essence here.”

  
“How did you find me? And if you say you used the GPS tracker on my phone, I swear I will…”   
  
  
“Really Watson, what do you take me for? Of course I used it. Like I said, we don’t have time to waste.” Joan crossed her arms in front of her and glared, “Ok fine, I apologise for invading your privacy…again!”

  
“This is **not** acceptable, Sherlock! I can’t get into this with you right now though. We’ll talk about boundaries and how apologising doesn’t automatically fix everything when we get back home.” Joan sounded exhausted by her own speech, “if we’re partners, I can’t keep scolding you to do better. Do you get that?”

  
Jeremy felt like all the air had been sucked out the room the moment Sherlock had walked into it. Naturally, his older brother had not even noticed him, however what did surprise him was to find that Sherlock and Miss Watson knew one another quite well. Apparently to the point of co-habitation. If he were a less rational man, he’d say nanny Maeve had orchestrated all this. The thought was quickly dismissed, as the darling woman would never be so cruel. Nope, this was just his wonderful luck at work again. As usual, the universe was taking the piss.

  
“Honestly Sherlock, this is preposterous – you can’t just lock me in the car and expect me to wait until you come fetch me. You need to stop being a petulant child whenever Joan and I share the same space. We are all adults here, or at least some of us are.” The eldest Holmes brother took long strides towards them as he huffed with indignation.

  
“Ah Fatty, for a brief blissful moment I’d forgotten about you,” Sherlock tried for a glower, but it ended up looking more like a sulk.

  
Yep the universe was seriously fucking with him. There was no other reason why Jeremy would be faced with not one, but both of his brothers.

  
Mycroft was the first to notice him, although it took him a beat to register what he was seeing. “Good evening Jo…” Mycroft was struck mute mid-greeting by the realisation that this wasn’t in fact his brain playing tricks on him. Perhaps Jeremy wasn’t as invisible as he had always thought.

  
“Oh god, yes sorry. I completely forgot to introduce you.” Joan gestured back to Jeremy, a bit embarrassed at her social flub. “Jeremy Reed meet Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock is the co-worker I was telling you –”

  
“Bartie?!” Sherlock interrupted Joan and wedged himself past her so he could stare at Jeremy a little closer. Instinct made Jeremy bite his lip, pride caused him to square his shoulders and ready himself for the mockery.

  
“My god…it is you, isn’t it?” Sherlock turned to quickly glance back at his older brother, unable to keep the shock out of his voice. Jeremy had never seen his brothers dumbfounded and if this weren’t so utterly uncomfortable he would’ve relished the moment a bit more. Mycroft moved closer as well and Joan couldn’t help but awkwardly step aside to take in this very strange scene.

  
“You all know each other?” She looked between the three men, “You said your name was Jeremy Reed.”

  
“Nonsense!” Sherlock interjected before Jeremy could reply, his face scrunched up in disgust. “This is Bartholomew Holmes.”

  
Joan just sort of blinked at this, unsure what to make of this new information or how to respond to it. Mycroft gave her an apologetic smile, having inherited a bit more tact than Sherlock. “Our younger brother, Bartie.”

  
“I don’t go by that name any longer.”

  
They were the first words that managed to pass his lips. Jeremy took great care to make sure that they did not waver. He moved to leave then, pushing past his older brothers and giving Joan a curt nod. “I’ll be off then.”

  
“Wait, wait…” Joan placed a careful hand on his arm and Jeremy had to will himself into keeping his stance nonchalant.

  
“How long have you not seen each other?” The question was addressed at all three Holmes men, causing each of them to turn mute at the same time. A spiteful part of Jeremy wanted to hiss that it hadn’t been nearly long enough, but rationally he knew that wouldn’t mesh well with the detached aura he was trying so hard to maintain.

  
Joan arched an eyebrow, as she had just witnessed grown men morph into awkward boys. “Really? I didn’t even know that you two had another brother. How is that something you don’t mention?” Sherlock and Mycroft stared at their shoes when she levelled them with her gaze.

  
Jeremy felt his face heat, despite fervently willing it not to. After all, it really shouldn’t hurt him to know that neither one of his siblings had spoken of him, it was par for the course. “If it’s all the same with you Ms Watson, I’d like to take my leave now. I am sure no one is in the mood for family reunions.” With all his might, Jeremy tried to channel Cecilia Reed’s unwavering poise in face of imminent and colossal defeat.

  
“Bartie stop, please wait…” Mycroft’s voice tapered off feebly, like he wasn’t quite sure why he was grasping Jeremy’s sleeve so desperately. “Mother would’ve hated this.”

  
“How would you know?” The air must’ve crackled with his fury just then.  
Jeremy clenched his hands into fists, wanting to punch them both for everything they had put him through. Everything they had excluded him from.

“And stop calling me that, it’s Jeremy!” He finished in a hiss, vaguely realising how deliciously liberating it was to let go of the pretence of indifference.

  
Sherlock looked on, stoic and unruffled. A minuscule part of Jeremy was jealous to see their mother’s elegant composure reflected so easily in him. Jeremy might’ve taken on her maiden name, but perhaps the truth was that he wasn’t anymore a Reed than he was a Holmes. Maybe he didn’t belong anywhere at all.  
  
  
“Jeremy,” Sherlock spoke slowly, measuring his words before releasing them. “Would you join us for dinner at our home tonight?”

  
Speechless for a few beats, his mouth felt dry as all waited for his answer. Jeremy managed to croak out his agreement, surprising even himself when he followed it with a meek smile.  
  


* * *

  
The journey to the brownstone where his brother resides was actually not the most awkward thing Jeremy has had to endure. After all, he had grown up in the Holmes household and spent his formative years in one of the world’s most prestigious boarding schools. There was little that fazed Bartie Holmes, but more importantly there was even less that could manage to shock Jeremy Reed.

  
However, the thing that did surprise him was that his brothers seemed to have come to some silent agreement to focus all their attention on him. No snide remarks were exchanged between Mycroft and Sherlock; instead they were unnaturally civil to one another and once they had reached the house they had moved with synchronised purpose. They were treating Jeremy as if he were company they needed to impress, or some skittish animal that might bolt at the first sign of strife. Joan seemed as stunned by their performance as Jeremy was, although she tried to smile encouragingly at him to set him at ease in her own way. They made him a cup of tea, while Mycroft set off to the kitchen to start on their meal. Sherlock stood in the living room for a moment, then caught himself staring at Jeremy and strode off after the eldest Holmes. His brothers’ hushed whispers wafted in from the kitchen, and it was disconcerting to consider how careful they were being for his sake.

  
“Never a dull moment with those two,” Jeremy gave a polite chuckle, hoping it would dissolve the tension in Joan’s frame. When she did not answer, he felt obliged to keep up appearances.

  
“How is it that you all know each other?” He spoke as if his stomach wasn’t churning and his palms weren’t sweating. He smiled his mother’s smile, controlled and pleasing to the eye.

  
Joan explained her apprenticeship with Sherlock in short clipped sentences, and Jeremy wondered if his appearance here had damaged the trust between them.

  
“You can’t blame him – either of them really.” Jeremy wasn’t sure why he was defending Sherlock or Mycroft, but this woman had been kind to him and he did not want her to misconstrue his family’s dysfunction. It was simply how the British upper class behaved and it could not be helped. He could almost hear his father’s mocking laugh at how Bartie was screwing everything up as usual.

  
“I was never really part of the family, you see.” He shook his head and idly fingered the clasp of his wristwatch. It was a forgotten heirloom that Mummy had given him on the day he had been exiled to boarding school and perhaps the only evidence he had that he was in fact a Holmes. “Those two, they’ve always been special. No matter how much they pretend to hate each other, they are more alike than they’d ever admit.”

  
Joan proved herself to be an excellent listener and only gave a quick gracious nod to ensure that he continued talking. He wasn’t sure what to add though. He was certain he did not want her pity. He’d had enough of that to last him several lifetimes. Jeremy took a long sip of his tepid tea, before slipping on that solid Reed smile once more.

  
“I feel I’ve made a poor decision in coming here tonight. Some things cannot be changed,” he scoffed, feeling foolish all of a sudden and very much like he had wasted everyone’s time. “Please tell my brothers I had an emergency, or whatever you like…I just, I should leave now.”

  
“I understand you know,” Sherlock was standing at the edge of the room, eyes unreadable but locked onto his youngest sibling.

  
Jeremy sat back down on the couch, while Joan stood and made to leave in order to give them some semblance of privacy. “You may stay if you like, Watson. That is, if my brother doesn’t mind. I think it would be beneficial for you to hear this also, as there should be no secrets in this partnership.” When Jeremy made no protest, Sherlock glanced back at the woman and did not looking away until she too had taken her seat again.

  
“I understand why you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with us. For years I attempted to forget the unpleasant reality of our upbringing by whatever means necessary. I am sure you were made aware of my downward spiral with drugs,” he threw away the last line as if it were a droll anecdote instead of something so intensely depressing.

  
“It makes perfect sense that you’d change your name and attempt to forget all about what it meant to be branded by the Holmes name.” Sherlock raised himself up onto the balls of his feet, arms held straight and tight against his frame. It was an echo of a tick he used to have as a child, the sight of which made Jeremy smile genuinely at his brother. Sherlock rocked back onto his heels again and nodded, some of the tension between them dissipated.

  
“I’ve never known how to be a brother. Not a good one anyway. Mother tried to unify us into some semblance of a family, bless her heart, except she was never a match for him.”

  
Jeremy wanted to swallow down the anxious feeling in his gut at the mention of their father. A large part of him feeling foolish for not realising that they had all suffered in their own ways under the yoke of this man. Perhaps it was better to be invisible than to be seen. To be driven to drugs in order to escape their father’s gaze was a fate he could not fathom. Jeremy wanted to reach out and embrace Sherlock, however that was simply not something Holmes men did.

  
“I’ve been cruel to you. I dismissed you. I saw you as inferior, as someone not worthy of my respect or even my time. I was wrong and I apologise wholeheartedly.” Jeremy shook his head at his brother’s words. It was fine, he murmured, it didn’t matter. He laughed his mother’s laugh, the one she had perfected during all of their father’s infidelities. “It’s all in the past now,” he added, but Sherlock would have none of it.

  
“No, this is important. As your older brothers, we did you a great disservice and I’m sorry it has taken me this long to tell you the truth.” Sherlock clasped his hands together and pointed them at his little brother. “You, Bartholomew Jeremiah Holmes, were and will always be better than the rest of us combined.”

  
The two siblings stared at one another for a long time, saying more in their silence than any embrace could convey. Mycroft came striding into the room then, oblivious to the poignancy of the moment he had interrupted.

  
“Dinner is served.”

  
Joan was the first to stand, patting Sherlock on the shoulder as she walked past him towards the kitchen. Jeremy followed her lead but took a moment to stop in front of his brother. Mycroft watched Sherlock and Jeremy shake hands, a light smile playing at his lips. “Come on you two, stop dawdling.”

  
“So what’s this case you are working on?” Jeremy asked as he took his seat at the table.

  
Sherlock looked utterly pleased at the change of subject. “It’s terribly fascinating. We’ve found three cases of decapitation post coitus.”

  
“Must we discuss this during dinner?”

  
“Oh shut it, Fatty. He asked, didn’t he?!”

  
“Now boys, play nice!” Joan smiled at Jeremy from across the table and passed him the salad bowl.

  
“So who are your suspects, besides a praying mantis?”

  
“Actually, the sexual cannibalism of mantises is a subject of great debate among entomologists…”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I cheated a bit with this prompt as Jeremy did not "accidentally solve a murder", because let's face it - I am no mystery writer. This makes my title really random (as I'd initially tried to write the crime solving) but I loved it too much to do away with it.


End file.
